


Protection, Stealth, & Luck

by lemonsharks



Series: Every Terrible, Necessary Choice [4]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: A little espionage between friends, Banter, Dragon age II timeline, Established Relationship, F/M, Goodbyes, Presents, Warden Alistair, signs of affection meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4391015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsharks/pseuds/lemonsharks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cousland sends Alistair out to the Free Marches, and it isn't anyone's first choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protection, Stealth, & Luck

**Author's Note:**

> For the signs of affection meme - #2, a gift

“I need you abroad,” she said, with the chain of an amulet wrapped around her fingers.

Serelle watched the disk spinning just below her curled palm, the silver leaving pale indentations in her flesh.

The night was quiet; the Vigil slept, and the city went on about its business as it had for the last three years of peace. They were good years. Not easy ones, not ever. But right.

Alistair watched her watching the disk, which stopped spinning a moment and reversed direction. The small table in their quarters, where they sometimes took meals, was tidy save a small pile of letters and half-burned beeswax candle. She held her shoulders tight beneath the mail she must’ve forgotten to take off. He leaned over her, tugged the the back of the shirt until she raised her arms.

He caught a peek at the broken seals as he shook the woven rings back into order. The Theirin mabari rampant— _Well, then. Not Warden business._

Alistair asked, “Where to?”

“I found this thing on my last trip out into the field. How was that three years ago? The Commander of the Grey should _be_ grey, don’t you think? I should be free to leave with the rest of you, and—” Serelle loosened her hold on the chain, and held the amulet up to catch the light.

It was hard believing any time had passed at all, which Alistair had said before. Was absolutely impossible that circumstance conspired to put them both here, now, undamaged. Mostly. But he kept his peace, and settled her mail on the rack, turned his head with raised a brow.

“And? There’s a point you’re not getting to in there somewhere, I’m sure of it. Like the bits of cabbage you hide underneath the parsnip mash.”

“I do _not._ ”

“Uh-huh.”

Serelle snapped her mouth closed and pooled the amulet and chain in the palm of her hand.

“Anora needs a favor,” she said, rising. “The plan is, nominally, you take two-dozen recruits up to the Free Marches. You meet up with a Commander called Stroud, settle our folk in and bring two-dozen of his people back with you. Building cohesion among the ranks, that sort of thing. But when you’re done, you’ll be coming home by way of Kirkwall. Do a little spying. Take stock of the Qunari situation there. ”

 _The Qunari situation_.

The horde of warriors bigger and better-trained than their own, the empire that could hop on a boat and be at their doorstep in a week, if they decided to. Alistair had asked, once, where _he_ might be put under the Qun, and he recalled Sten’s reply now.

_Venak hol , do not ask questions you do not wish answered._

Never did _get_ that answer.

“And she can’t use her own spies because she doesn’t want to annoy the Viscount if they’re caught.”

“There’s still enough darkspawn popping out of the Sundermount that no one’s going to begrudge a Warden or two in the area. _We_ have standing to be there. Seems she’s our queen before she’s our friend most often, these days.”

“What about Sten?”

“Useless. He _says_ I can keep asking, but that he can’t tell me a damn thing and isn’t going to.”

Alistair did a bit of math inside his head: he made best guesses on people and terrain and came back with an answer he didn’t like one bit.

“I’ll be gone half a year, and that’s if _nothing_ goes too horribly wrong,” he said.

“I know, love,” Serelle replied. “But Anora kept the power to rescind the Amaranthine charter, and—”

“And Weisshaupt would not be best pleased if they found us meddling in politics, again.”

“You’re the only person I trust enough to send,” she said.

Serelle crossed the room and rose to tiptoe. She slipped the chain over his head, so that the amulet rested near his heart. _Protection. Stealth. Luck._

Alistair took her in his arms and held her close.

“I’ll write to you every day.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I will _intend_ to write to you every day.”

She laughed, a little, and Alistair memorized the sound.


End file.
